Master & Student (The Billionaire's Way) Book 2 (3 page)

We get into the car. My boss drives down Rodeo. I look at him for a moment. Then I realize, fuck, I should thank him. “Thank you, Mr. Peak. I can’t believe you purchased all those wonderful things for me.”

“Well, we have one more stop to make,” my boss announces.

“One more stop?” I ask.

“In order to make you stand out in the Monte Carlo Casino, you will have to outshine the other women,” Mr. Peak explains as he pulls up in front of the Cartier store.

Wow. I think I really am going to pass out.

When I get out of the Bentley, my knees literally become weak. I honestly would do my boss right now, in the middle of Rodeo Drive, if he ordered me.

As we approach the Cartier store, a woman opens the door for us and flashes a wide smile. Now, if you have never been to Rodeo Drive before, this kind of behavior
never
happens to regular human beings. Most of these stores will give you a dirty look if you don’t look like you can afford to shop there. The Cartier manager could not open the door fast enough for Mr. Peak.

“How do you do today?” the Cartier woman asks.

“We are doing fine. My associate, Sarah, will be in Monaco. I want you to make her envied by all the women in the Municipality.”

The Cartier woman doesn’t need to hear another word. She smiles and snaps her fingers. Every associate on the floor comes rushing towards her. Her snapping of the fingers must be some kind of code for,
we got a fucking billionaire in our store
.

A large white French chair is pulled up for me. They position the chair under the massive candlelit chandelier at the center of the store. A selection of watches, necklaces, earrings and bracelets are displayed before me. I look back at Mr. Peak who watches passively as the sales staff gets to work.

“The first impression is always the most important. People will be looking at your chest,” the woman says as she grabs a case from one of her associates. “And when people lay their eyes on you, they will see this” she announces as she opens the box.

In front of me is the most decadent necklace I have ever seen in my life. The diamonds blind me. The arrangement of the stones are perfect. The Cartier salesgirl places that necklace around my neck. I feel it lock behind me. The woman holds a mirror in front of me. I see that necklace around my neck. Yes, I am sold.

The woman shows me a pair of matching earrings. She places them on me. I feel like a monarch. The women continue to open case after case. They place bracelets on each of my wrists. I am offered another, more subtle necklace, for “casual attire.”

I am shown a watch with dozens of diamonds framing the clock face. “This is our Santos Demoiselle model. I think this would be perfect for Monte Carlo,” the sales girl says as she places it on my wrist.

The Cartier woman extends her hand. I stand up and am presented to Mr. Peak. He looks at me and doesn’t say anything just yet. After a long and tense few seconds, he simply says, “Something is missing.”

Mr. Peak grabs my right hand and tells the Cartier woman, “Rings attract attention.”

The Cartier sales girl nods. Oh my God.
Is Mr. Peak about to put a ring on my finger?!

The sales girl comes back with a case. She opens the case. But this time, she opens the case
away from my eyes.
The Cartier girl shows the ring to my boss. “Good,” he says.

Mr. Peak takes the ring from the case and grabs my hand. My boss slowly places the ring on my finger. I begin to melt.

I look at the platinum ring with a rock that makes me hyperventilate. Even the other sales girls seem impressed. My boss reaches into his coat jacket and hands the woman a Black Amex Card. I awkwardly stand there unsure of how I could ever thank Mr. Peak for making me feel like the most special girl in the world.

As the store processes the payment, Mr. Peak looks at the ring and the necklace. He tells me, “You have to feel comfortable with these diamonds. They should feel like an extension of yourself. Don’t let the diamonds carry you. You should carry the diamonds.”

I begin to walk around the store. My posture straightens out. I catch a reflection of myself in a mirror. Damn, I look good. My confidence begins to rise. Other people in the store are looking at me. Hell, they are not looking,
they are gawking at me.
They want to know who I am. What makes me so special to deserve all this attention.

My body surges with this energy and excitement at the thought of helping my Mr. Peak win his biggest conquest. I walk back over to my boss who signs off on the final bill. When the transaction is complete, the Cartier sales woman hands me the jewelry boxes. “Have a wonderful time in Monaco,” she tells me.

“I will.”

***

We get back to the mansion in Malibu, I carefully put away all of the jewelry except for that incredible ring on my finger. I just can’t stop staring at it. Of course, Mr. Peak and myself are not husband and wife. Our bond is just as deep. We are sexual partners. We are partners in crime. Our lives will depend on each other when we get to Monaco.

That night, Mr. Peak carries me to his bed. He looks at the ring still on my finger. “You like that ring, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever take this off.”

My boss tosses me onto the bed and jumps on top of me. He pins me down and forces me to look him directly in the face. “Pay attention and pay attention to me very carefully. Do you know what a diamond is?”

“It’s a gemstone?” I ask nervously.

“It is the most powerful stone in the world. But it is more than simple jewelry. Turn the ring around so the rock is under your palm.”

I do what Mr. Peak says. He takes my hand, with the ring, and presses it against his own neck.

“That little ring may also save your life. Serge Molidak is known for extreme violence. That diamond will be enough to cut someone open at close range. Keep that in mind,” Mr. Peak orders as he takes my hand and presses it against my face. I can feel the stone ready to pierce my skin. I wince. Mr. Peak frees my hand just before the diamond cuts my flesh.

The surge of adrenaline rushes through me. I grab my boss and kiss him. He runs his tongue on my neck.

“I want to play with you so badly right now,” my boss growls as he peels off my clothes. Mr. Peak runs his massive hands all over my soft body. I rip open my boss’s shirt and attack him like an animal. We struggle and fight to gain control over each other. Mr. Peak grabs his belt and wraps it around my neck. As usual, my boss gets his way in bed. And I am learning to like it that way.

We don’t get to sleep until four in the morning. Bed sheets, pillows, chains, belts and handcuffs are strewn all over the master bedroom. Mr. Peak wakes me up with a nice spank on the ass. “Wake up sleepy head. It’s time to fly to Europe.”

***

Mr. Peak’s staff packs up a SUV with all of our baggage. We take a chauffeured Maybach to the Santa Monica Municipal Airport where the Gulfstream V is fueled and ready to go. As we exit the car, I notice that my boss has is reading Sun Tzu’s
The Art of War.
It’s probably a good idea to have some reading material. We have to fly to New York to re-fuel the jet. Then it’s off to Monaco.

As the staff packs up the jet, I turn on my iPad and begin to do a Google search on the nation of Odostan. It may be a good idea to research the country that I am helping to overthrow! I start off on good old Wikipedia.

From Wikipedia:
Odostan (Formally known as The Republic of Odostan) is a former Soviet-bloc nation located at the crossroads of Eastern Europe and Western Asia with a population of twenty-one million people. Odostan is bounded by Russia to the North, the Caspian Sea to the East, Armenia to the West and Iran to the South. The country has been ruled by a dictator, President Yuri Molidak for the past 22 years. The main source of income for the Republic of Odostan is light sweet crude oil and is the fourth largest exporter of oil in the world.

We board the jet. I continue to read up on President Molidak. The man is 62 years old. He was the chief KGB agent for the Odostan Region during the 1980s. Today, he has a suspected personal net worth of over twenty billion dollars. Wow.

Mr. Peak notices that I am reading up on Odostan. He seems rather pleased that I am taking my assignment seriously. I really want to impress my boss so I keep my head buried in my iPad, dutifully doing my research on the project ahead of us.

My attention turns to Sergey Molidak. Since I have to seduce this guy, I really want to know what he looks like. I do an image search and find his official photo. Well, what can I say? The guy looks like a spoiled rich jerk. He is tall and somewhat buff with an arrogant smirk on his face. He kinda looks like that frat boy you regret dating your freshman year in college.

Sergey was kicked out of Oxford for cheating. He transferred to the University of Geneva where he received a degree in Economics. He holds the rank of General in the Odostan Army and officially is the Commander of the President’s Personal “Lions” Guard. Serge is also the head of the Odostan Oil Ministry and the Head of the Odostan National Soccer Club. Boy, for a trust fund kid, he sure gets a lot of responsibility from his dad.

Sergey owns over a hundred exotic cars valued at over fifty million dollars. He owns six private jets and a two hundred million dollar yacht. This guy has a pretty sweet life. I see a recent
Vanity Fair
article entitled, “The Wild, Violent and Warped World of Odostan’s Favorite Son”. I click on the link and begin to read the article.

It starts with a description of Sergey holding a jar of acid over the head of a blogger who tried to expose the corruption of the Odostan Regime. The Dictator’s son slowly poured the acid over the guy’s face, watching as the poor prisoner’s flesh melts onto the ground. That’s it. I stop reading.

The jet takes off. I look out the window and watch the ground get smaller and smaller. Something in me is saying that this is a bad idea. My hands and feet begin to shake. Oh God. I am having a panic attack.
My life is going to be in serious danger when I step off of the plane in Monaco.

My heart begins to race. I want to scream. I want to get off of this plane. This is not going to work. Mr. Peak has all of the power and poise to overthrow a government. But what am I? I’m just some girl who cheated to score a good paying job. This is way over my head.

Mr. Peak looks at me. He can tell something is wrong. “Go have a drink and relax,” my boss orders. The blonde stewardess is dutifully making a drink for my boss. I order a Vodka straight-up. No fucking around. I need to get myself buzzed or outright drunk by the time I get to Monaco.

Against my better judgement, I go back to reading the article:
The only thing more feared than Sergey Molidak is the entourage of steroid infused personal bodyguards whose duty include beating those who stare into the eyes of Odostan’s favorite son, ensuring the young man gets into any top club, restaurant or event and procuring supermodels for the evening’s entertainment.

Great. So I not only have to worry about this crazy guy, I have to watch out for a bunch of lunkheaded bodyguards. I click off the article and listen to some chillwave music on iTunes. The stewardess returns with my drink. My head is spinning. I need to zone out for a while.

***

My eyes open up as the plane lands in Teterboro, New Jersey. Wow. Seven hours goes by fast when you get yourself nice and drunk. I feel hung over. The Gulfstream doors open. Mr. Peak goes out to stretch his legs. I stumble outside. It’s nighttime. We walk across the tarmac as my boss runs his hand into my hair.

“Looks like you emptied an entire bottle of Vodka all by yourself,” Mr. Peak announces.

“And I haven’t eaten a thing today.”

“Not good for a small girl like you.”

Mr. Peak gets on his phone and makes a call. As he talks on the phone, I gaze at the Manhattan skyline in the distance. My boss hangs up and says, “We’re having a full course dinner ready for us when we get back into the air.”